UC-NRLF 


273    377 

POEMS, 


BEN  FIELD 


c  a. 

u 


LIBRARY 

OF    THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 


POEMS 

And 
Poems  of  California  and  the  West 

BY 
BEN  FIELD 


BOSTON 

RICHARD    G.   BADGER 

The  Gorham  Press 

1904 


Copyright  190^  by  BEN  FIELD. 
All  Rights  Reserved 


Printed  at 

THE  GORHAM  PRESS 
Boston,  CJ,  S.  A, 


Dedicated  to 
Annie  Elizabeth  Cheney 


CONTENTS 

The  Sign  of  the  Ultimate 9 

The  Soul's  Defiance 9 

Poetry    10 

The  Rocks  of  Ramirez 1 1 

The  Dragon  12 

Liberty   13 

O  Speak  to  Me 14 

Music 15 

We  Suffer  Not  Alone 16 

The  Slave 17 

My  Nurse 18 

Ocean    ' 20 

The  Rhythm  of  Life 21 

The  Prayer  of  Gloom 22 

Beautiful  Hills 23 

America  and  Immortality 24 

The  Atheism  of  the  Man 26 

Sappho,  Alone 27 

Things  in  Heaven  and  Earth 28 

Good-By 29 

O  Say,  Little  Boy 30 

Give  Us  This  Day  Our  Daily  Bread 30 

5 


CONTENTS 

A  Singer  of  Songs 31 

Rendine 32 

Beauty  and  Love. 33 

He  Plays  on  Heart  of  Hers 33 

Longings  She  Left  Behind 34 

A  Bunch  of  Roses 35 

Rome,  America — The  Difference 35 

Gardens  of  Silence 37 

Lights  of  the  City 38 

My  Love,  The  Wind 39 

One  From  Millions 40 

The  Garden  of  the  World 41 

A  Fragment 42 

My  One  Sweet  Thought 42 

One  Heart   43 

My  Dead  Love 44 

The  Bright  Side 45 

O  Kiss  Me 45 

Quiet  Dreams 47 

South — North 51 

The  Swing  of  the  Pendulum 51 

The  Three  Desires » 52 

6 


CONTENTS 

The  Minstrel  put  the  Viol  Down 53 

Wraiths 54 

Woman's  Love 55 

The  Envied  Rose 57 

The  Sorceress 57 

Blood  58 

Till  Then  and  Yet  Until 59 

Communion   59 

That  Which  I  Scorned 60 

Worship— A  Wraith 61 

The  Mystic  Secret 62 

Fame  and  Love 62 

Christ  Before  Pilate 64 

Punishment 64 

A  Night  with  Fate 64 

What's  to  Do 66 

The  Ocean  Burial 67 

Sweetheart 68 

Human  Waters 68 

The  Heart  that  Throbs  Intense 70 

Woman's  Eyes 70 

Unfathomable 71 

7 


CONTENTS 

Impatience  for  Fame 71 

POEMS  OF  CALIFORNIA  AND  THE  WEST 

A  Sign 73 

A  City  of  California 75 

The  Spirit  of  Los  Angeles 76 

Hail  to  the  Chief 77 

Junipero  Serra 78 

The  Eighth  Wonder ...    79 

On  Raymond  Hill 80 

A  Dream  Prophecy 81 

Catalina  82 

The  Banyan  Tree  at  Avalon 83 

A  History  of  Arizona 84 

The  Song  of  the  Siren  of  Rio  Colorado 85 


8 


THE  SIGN  OF  THE  ULTIMATE 

I  stood  on  an  island  sea  beach, 
No  other  soul  was  there 
Save  the  soul  of  the  island,  sleeping, 
And  the  soul  of  God  in  the  air. 

The  beach  was  long  and  lonely 
And  my  soul  was  lonely  too: 
No  being  gave  me  greeting, 
But  above  the  sea-birds  flew. 

Full  well  I  knew  the  sea  of  Life, 
Full  long  I'd  searched  its  deeps, 
But  now,  behold,  oncoming, 
A  wave  that  landward  sweeps. 

I  saw  with  eyes  far  seeing, 
And  knew  writh  thought  profound  : 
I  heard  the  rush  of  Being 
In  that  tumultuous  sound. 

Power  spoke  with  accent  certain, 
Force  lived  in  that  wild  roar, 
An  aeon  raised  its  curtain — 
A  billow  crashed  ashore. 

THE  SOUL'S  DEFIANCE 

Take  if  Thou  wilt  my  every  hope  away! 

Crush  down  the  longings  of  my  youth, 
Make  dark  the  glorious  spring-like  day, 

Forbid  the  mind  that  seeketh  Truth. 

Strong  One,  whoever  Thou  mayst  be! 
On  me  cast  Thou  the  evil  of  Thine  eye, 


Take  strength  and  love  and  power  to  see, 
Thy  direst  deeds  still  I  defy. 

While  life  doth  last,  and  heart  doth  beat  however 
faint, 

I'll  lift  my  soul  to  realms  of  beauty  fair 
And,  though  Thy  breath  doth  scorch  and  taint, 
I'll  laugh  and  love  and  revel  there. 


POETRY 

Thou  art  the  deep  and  mystic  sea 

That  laps  against  the  hurrying  feet 

Of  men  and  calms  their  idle  fears, 

And  every  being  bends  the  knee 

Upon  thy  strand,  for  life  is  sweet 

Where  blows  the  wind  from  unknown  spheres. 

No  more  can  man  in  Science  trust 
Than  in  the  work  that  thou  hast  done, 
Nor  yet  so  much,  for  thou  art  Life. 
Thou  art  the  glitter,  through  the  rust, 
That  shines  as  through  the  clouds  the  sun — 
Thou  art  the  motive  of  the  strife. 

The  poet  is  the  man  that  sings, 
That  plays  upon  the  harp's  wild  strings, 
That  reads  the  tale  of  starry  skies, 
That  soars  aloft  on  seraph's  wings, 
That,  from  the  stone,  the  statue  brings, 
That  sees  the  depths,  in  woman's  eyes. 

The  poet  is  the  man  whose  brush . 
Can  paint  with  words,  that  flush 
To  cheek  doth  bring, 

10 


Whose  canvas  is  the  human  heart — 
He  makes  the  whole  world  sing. 

Poetry  is  Life's  wild  song, 

The  voice  of  right,  the  cry  of  wrong, 

The  sign  of  fairer  days. 


THE  ROCKS  OF  RAMIREZ 

Long  years  ago,  with  childish  eyes, 

I  gazed  upon  a  mountain,  grand, 

That  reached  its  hoary  height 

Up,  up  into  the  azure  skies. 

I  wondered  then,  in  childish  spell, 

How  many  years  were  passed  and  gone 

Since  first  that  mountain  rose, 

Or  first  the  waters  from  it  fell 

And  left  it  there,  in  grim  repose. 

In  later  days,  a  boy,  I  roved  the  seas 

And  once  away  to  southward  sailed 

And,  rounding  wild  Cape  Horn, 

I  saw  the  rocks  of  Ramirez 

That  jut,  an  island,  through  the  blue 

And  billowy  waves, 

Defying  all  the  ships  that  sail, — 

Diego  Ramirez,  but  you, 

And  sky  and  water  and  the  south  wind's  wail ! 

Note. — The  author,  when  a  boy,  sailed  around 
Cape  Horn  on  an  English  merchantman  bound 
from  San  Pedro,  California,  to  Queenstown,  and 
he  uses  the  word  Ramirez  as  the  sailors  pro 
nounced  it, — accent  on  the  last  syallable  (ruz). 


ii 


Against  thy  rocky  crags  the  billows  dashed, 

The  white  spray  stung  thy  cliffs, 

The  sea  birds  circled  round  thy  shores, 

With  sullen  roars  the  ocean  crashed. 

I  see  it  still,  the  salt  sea  foam, 

Climb  up  thy  sides  to  fall! 

We  passed  the  rocks  of  Ramirez 

And  set  our  sails  for  home, 

But  memory  yet  is  on  the  seas. 


THE  DRAGON 

Gods  and  Devils  all  my  heroes, 
Hell  and  Heaven  each  my  tryst, 
With  my  claws  upon  the  pulsing, 
Great  and  brawny  wrist 
Of  Earth, 

0  Mirth! 

To  know  her  fears, 
To  see  her  tears, 
To  feel  her  quaking, 
To  force  her  waking; 
When  Ignorance,  my  son, 
Stalks  through  the  land 
And  Fear,  my  fair  one, 
Holds  by  either  hand! 

1  am  the  Dragon  who  sits  on  high, 
Behind  a  thunder  cloud. 

I  send  far  off  and  beckon  nigh 

And  wrap  the  world  in  gloomy  shroud. 


12 


I  clutch  with  vicious  claws — O  glee! 

I  am  the  Dragon  of  earth  and  sea! 

When  cities  burn  and  ships  go  down, 

Ho!  there  am  I  in  hellish,  gown. 

I  put  a  finger  to  my  mouth 

And  whistle,  when  the  earth  has  drouth. 

If  men  will  fight, 

For  wrong  or  right, 

It  matters  not  which  it  may  be, 

I  clap  them  on  to  kill  or  flee. 

I  send  the  missionaries  out 

The  foreign  wars  to  bring  about : 

Hell  is  my  seething  caldron-pot 

And  misery  my  garden  plot. 

I  am  the  Dragon! 
Ho !  ho,  old  world ! 
Wag  on,  content  am  I. 


LIBERTY 

Fair  Liberty  thou  art  a  goddess  bright! 

And  strange  are  the  deeds  that  we  do  for  thee 

And  the  ways  of  the  world  that  make  men  free 

Are  as  fair  as  the  day  and  black  as  night. 

In  the  name  of  a  God  fanatics  fight — 

As  the  spirits  of  darkness  cowards  flee, 

Till  War  has  wrecked  like  a  storm  on  the  sea 

And  the  wrong  has  given  place  to  the  right ; 

But  Liberty  fair  thou  soarest  on  high — 

Yet  higher  still  as  the  centuries  roll 

And  the  voice  of  tyrants  is  fain  to  cry 

That  the  Truth  is  emblazoned  on  thy  scroll. 

While  the  angel  of  wisdom  draweth  nigh 

Come  the  nations  of  earth  to  Freedom's  goal. 

13 


O  SPEAK  TO  ME. 

I  love  the  hills  my  Saviour  trod, 
The  vales  where  he  communed  with  God, 
Here  Glamour  all  her  flowers  has  strown, 
I  love  this  land — his  very  own. 

As  Thou  didst  speak  at  Pentecost, 
O  Jesus  speak  to  me,  or  chide, 
But  speak  while  walking  at  my  side; 
Speak,  speak  to  me! 

As  Thou  didst  speak  at  Galilee, 
To  men  of  old,  speak  now  to  me; 
As  spake  Thy  passion  at  Gethsemane, 
Speak  Thou  to  me! 

It  cannot  be  that  Thou  art  lost, 
Thy  Father's  house  is  not  so  far, 
Thy  promises  still  with  me  are 
And  Time,  was  only  younger,  when, 
My  Saviour,  Thou  wert  here  with  men, 
And  Space,  'tis  just  as  wide  as  then; 
Thou  mayest  surely  come  again, 
Speak,  speak  to  me! 

O  Love  of  mine  transmute, 
This  love  I  bear  for  earth, 
And  give  it  heavenly  birth ! 
Hang  Thou  about  it  now, 
A  halo  from  Thy  brow, 
O  speak  to'  me.! 

Make  sacred  my  desire! 
And  set  my  soul  afire, 
With  love  of  Thee. 

14 


Bend  down  Thy  Kingly  head 

That  impress  of  the  thorns  I  see, 

And  speak  to  me! 

Reach  out  Thy  hands  that  bleed, 

For  Thee  I  sorely  need, 

O  speak  to  me! 

Jesus,  my  Saviour,  mine! 
Speak  Thou  to-night, 
Illumine  with  Thy  light, 
My  Hope!  my  Love!    my  God! 
Hear  Thou  my  vow, 
O  let  me  now 
Thy  vision  see, 
Speak — speak  to  me! 


MUSIC 

Music!   Unveiled  hast  thou  another  sphere; 

And  over  seas  of  azure  clear, 

On  wings  now  slow,  now  fleet, 

Thou  comest.    Ah!  my  heart  doth  beat 

To  rhythmic  sounds  unknown  before, 

My  feet  press  hard  upon  the  shore 

Of  wide  and  silvery  sea, 

Across  whose  waves  thou  callest  me. 

Thy  murmur  sweet  falls  on  mine  ear, 

And  then  with  notes  that  ever  rise, 

Thy  thundering  tones  assail  the  skies 

And,  sinking  once  again  all  low, 

Thy  martial  strain  grows  soft  and  slow. 

I  feel  its  meaning,  almost  seize, 

And  then  implore  on  bended  knees 

That  thou  wilt  make  thy  raptures  clear, 

That  thou  wilt  bring  thy  sirens  near. 

15 


But  as  I  grasp  at  joys  unknown, 
New  beauties  flash — the  others  flown. 
Faster  they  come!  I  hold  my  breath, 
Lest  silvery  sounds,  so  sweet,  mean  death. 

This,  Music,  is  thy  shining  sea, 
Whose  gentle  waves  roll  in  to  me 
With  sounds  too  sweet  for  mortal  ear, 
With  notes  too  dear  for  man  to  hear. 
Upon  this  shore  of  thine  I  stand 
And,  longing,  look  for  unseen  strand 
Whose  verge  is  fair  and  far  away, 
Unfathomed  save  by  passion's  ray. 

Away!   I'll  leave  the  world  behind 
And  launch  my  bark,  that  shore  to  find ! 

WE  SUFFER  NOT  ALONE 

Dislodged  by  graceful  deer, 

A  sharp  and  flinty  rock 

Leapt  down  the  mountain  side, 

And  by  its  own  wild  force  fell  clear 

To  smiling  valley,  with  a  shock 

So  great  that  rugged  bark 

Of  oak  was  clave  apart, 

And  there  it  sunk 

Into  a  giant  trunk, 

While  startled  bird  and  beast 

Resumed  their  wonted  loves, 

And  hum  of  bees  was  heard, 

And  coo  of  doves. 

But  time  passed  on — 

Weary  and  sore, 

With  cruel  love  harrassed, 

I  sought  sweet  nature's  solitude 

16 


In  smiling  valley,  o'er 

Which  hung  wild  height,  sublime 

With  jagged  crags. 

A  gnarled  oak  with  twisted  arms 

And  half  dead  leaves,  stood 

In  my  path  and  in  its  trunk 

I  saw  a  sunken  rock. 

O'er  and  about  the  flinty  stone 

The  living  fiber  grew, 

While  still  that  oaken  heart 

Was  pierced.    Alone 

The  grand  old  monarch  stood 

Amongst  its  fellows,  firm, 

Who  never  knew  its  bitter  grief, 

As  time  dragged  on. 

THE  SLAVE 

Daughter  of  brawn,  with  weary  face, 
Rough  cap  in  the  arching  stone, 

The  home  she  holds  in  its  proper  place, 
Sad  slave  of  sinew  and  bone. 

Never  did  nerves  know  how  to  strain 

Till  toil  to  babes  gave  birth, 
Till  rounded  breasts  were  racked  with  pain 

And  youth  was  bent  to  earth. 

Daughter  of  brawn,  with  callous  hands, 

She  knows  no  happy  hour, 
The  weary  years,  with  running  sands, 

Drag  out  her  bridal  dower. 

Grind  on,  O  slave  of  the  sunken! 

While  the  rich  are  hot  with  wine: 
The  sons  of  men  are  drunken — 

God's  justice  is  divine. 


MY  MUSE 

My  Muse,  O  rest  awhile! 
My  head  and  heart  beguile. 
Stop  here  thy  pace, 
Show  me  thy  face, 
For  soul  of  mine  is  sad 
And  love  of  mine  is  sore. 
Make  me  with  passion  glad 
And  thrill  me  more  and  more! 
My  Muse,  give  me  thine  arms 
And,  on  thy  heaving  breast, 
Let  head  of  mine  find  rest. 
Close  to  thy  bosom  warm, 
Let  heart  of  mine  alarn* 
My  other  self, 
With  beating! 
With  throbbing! 
With  such  a  passion's  swirl, 
That  brain,  in  giddy  whirl 
Shall  drunken  be, 
And  I,  forget! 

Ha,  ha !  rouse  up,  O  sluggish  soul ! 
Thinkst  thou  a  Muse  may  tarry, 
Thine  arms  to  feel,  thy  kisses  hot 
To  pay,  thy  passion  long  to  parry? 
I  wave  my  hand  to  thee !  come  on ! 
Forget  not  fame  all  fair! 
Rouse  up  and  strive  beloved  one, 
Rouse  up  to  do  and  dare! 

Ho!  great  am  I! 
Fame  from  on  high 
Descends  to  wait  on  me. 


18 


All  people  sing  my  praise, 

A  pean,  through  the  days. 

I  grasp  the  hidden  key, 

Of  Life's  one  mystery! 

I  touch  the  chords  divine! 

The  music!   it  is  mine! 

What,  kneeling  one! 

Who,  who  art  thou? 

My  Muse?  Ah  yes, 

Why  earnest  here? 

My  race  is  run 

And  on  my  brow, 

All  fair  to  see, 

Are  fame's  immortal  flowers ! 

These,  these  I  give  to  thee! 

Alas,  they  fall! 

They  crumble! 

Muse,  return 

And  light  the  fire, 

In  blackened  urn. 

O  Muse,  fair  Muse! 

My  gems  are  pebbles  all, 

My  sweets  are  gall. 

Do  not  refuse, 

Come  back  to  me! 

Thine  arms  are  dearer  far 

Than  garlands  fair  of  fame, 

That  burned  with  bursting  flame. 

O  let  me  lie  with  thee 
And  clasp  thee  in  my  arms. 
O  give  my  passion  free 
Delight  to  have  its  full! 
Thou  art  my  queen, 
Far  more  to  me  than  fame! 
My  eyes  have  seen 

19 


The  depths  of  smold'ring  flame 
In  thine. 

Forgive  me,  Muse! 

Thine  arms, 

Thy  breasts, 

I  will  not  lose. 

Thy  limbs  all  bare, 

Thy  perfumed  hair, 

Are  more  to  me 

Than  God, 

Or  hope  of  Heaven! 

As  bee  the  honey  sips, 

Kiss,  kiss  my  longing  lips. 

I  know  not  dread  nor  fright, 

Hold,  hold  me  tight! 

I  die!  but  Muse, 

In  thy  embrace, 

'Tis  sweet  with  thee  to  face 

The  mask  of  death! 

Breathe  out  thy  breath  again, 

Close,  close  to  me,  and  then 

Thyself  in  passion's  ecstasy 

Refuse  me  not, 

O  Muse,  my  Muse. 


OCEAN 

Ocean,  pray,  how  deep  are  you? 
Ocean  wide,  how  old? 
Could  I  but  wander,  wander  through 
Your  blue  depths,  silent — cold! 

Old  Ocean,  your  sheer,  satin  gown, 
Is  good  and  fair  to  see : 

20 


Those  that  with  battered  wrecks  go  down, 
In  it  shall  folded  be. 

Then  give  me,  Ocean,  restless  strength 
To  travel  o'er  you  far, 
To  know  your  reach  and  sinuous  length, 
Till  towering  mountains  bar. 


THE  RHYTHM  OF  LIFE 

Mute  and  unshaped,  in  marble  hills, 

Are  untouched  Mercurys  lying, 
Fairer  of  form,  with  power  more  rife 

Than  gladiators  dying. 

Has  sculptor  cut  a  Venus  face, 

Or  shaped  a  warrior's  bust? 
The  dream  undreamed  is  fairer  yet 

Than  these,  that  turn  to  dust. 

The  touch,  that  makes  a  canvas  live, 

Was  taught  by  hands  unseen, 
Yet  fairer  gifts  are  there  to  give 

And  fairer  flowers  to  glean. 

Back  of  the  hand,  that  holds  the  brush, 

Is  the  dream  of  a  godlike  mind, 
But  the  graceful  flight  of  the  soul  of  Art, 

Is  swift  as  the  stormy  wind. 

The  song  of  the  singer  is  not  so  sweet 

As  the  song  that  was  never  sung, 
So  the  words  we  hold,  with  the  heart's  quick 
beat, 

To  the  winds  are  never  flung. 

21 


The  story  of  Love  is  told  to  men 

In  rhythmic  words  aflame, 
A  deeper  tale  is  left  untold, 

Too  fair  for  man  to  name. 

Back  of  the  dream,  of  the  painter, 

Back  of  the  sculptor's  ideal, 
Far,  where  the  song  sounds  fainter, 

Where  the  soul  is  strong  and  leal, 
Up,  where  the  air  is  ether, 

Keen  as  the  edge  of  a  knife, 
Down,  in  the  depths  of  Nature, 

Flows  ever  the  Rhythm  of  Life. 

THE  PRAYER  OF  GLOOM 

Aimlessly  wandering  at  dawn  of  day, 
Unknowing  I  went  from  the  beaten  way, 
Where  men  go  to  and  fro, 
Till  halting  at  last  at  a  lonely  spot, 
Away  from  my  God  and  by  men  forgot, 
My  head  I  bended  low. 

I  was  young,  but  the  years  oppressed, 
I  was  weary,  my  woe  confessed; 
Nature  was  blank,  and  Love  was  a  lie, 
I  sank  on  the  earth  and  the  welcome  tears 
Refused  to  come,  nor  devilish  fears 
To  rouse  me  more  as  the  time  went  ..by. 

How  long  I  may  not  tell 
Mine  eyes  stared  into  Hell 
When  onward  came  a  cloud 
My  ghastly  gaze  to  shade, 
Came  dark  and  dripping  to  my  aid 
And  threatened  me,  as  if  a  shroud. 

22 


I  prayed  this  hovering  Gloom  to  lower 
And  cover  me  with  grave  clothes  o'er; 
Mine  arms  stretched  I  aloft, 
As  came  the  stormy  wraith 
Drawn  by  my  mighty  faith, 
And  spilled  its  rain-drops  soft. 

Then  raged  the  gale, 

On  frail  earth, — frail; 

In  awe  I  held  my  breath, 

Bent  were  the  trees, 

Blown  to  their  knees 

They  menaced  me  with  death. 


BEAUTIFUL  HILLS 

Bathed  in  the  blue  of  creation, 
Hushed  by  the  hand  that  is  strong, 
Prone  on  the  breast  of  the  mother, 
Aglow  with  her  light  and  her  song — 

Thy  beauty  is  soft  like  the  ocean, 
Thy  charm  is  sucked  from  the  earth, 
When  islands  were  rocked  and  cradled 
The  mother  gave  thee  in  birth. 

Babe  of  quiet  contentment, 
Child  of  the  peace  that  fills, 
Offspring  born  of  loving — 
Beautiful,  mystic  hills. 


AMERICA  AND  IMMORTALITY 

America! 

How  many  years  hast  lived? 

A  century's  span  and  more! 

Ha,  ha! 

A  swallow  builds  its  home  within  a  cave 

And,  pecking  in  the  sturdy  tree, 

A  bird  doth  make  its  nest — 

And  both  may  last  as  long. 

What  hast  thou  done 

To  stamp  upon  the  face  of  time 

An  impress  of  thy  being1? 

Liberty !    Washington ! 

Ho,  ho! 

Rome  had  her  generals 

And  aspirations  too 

And  where  are  they? 

The  faith  of  Christ 

Within  thy  borders  nourished! 

There  are  a  thousand  others — 

Thy  sons  have  died — 

Their  deeds  once  done 

Are  passed  and  silent — 

E'en  printed  books  must  mould  and  rot; 

But  thou,  America! 

What  hast  thou  done 

That  thou  canst  think  to  last? 

That  men  through  thee 

Have  learned  to  live  as  men 

And  not  as  beasts? 

What  matters  how  men  live 

Since,  dying,  they  are  through  ? 

Immortal,  sayest  thou? 


We  ask  for  proof! 

What  man  that  died 

E'er  came  again  to  tell  us 

Of  his  going? 

What  soul  once  sunk 

In  death's  oblivion 

E'er  sent  a  message  back? 

Be  still  ye  little  ones 

Who  tell  us  fairy  tales 

That  we  have  heard  before! 

We  ask  for  proof — 

One  jot  or  tittle  that  is  true! 

Egypt  built  her  pyramids — 

We  know  she  did! 

A  people  put  them  there — 

And  ancient  kings 

Reared  temples 

That  a  million  suns 

Have  shone  upon — 

But  thou,  America! 

Where  is  thy  monument 

Dedicated  to  the  onward  roll 

And  strewn  about  with  bones? 

Go  then  and  on  thy  desert  plains 

Erect  a  mound! 

Let  thousands  die 

If  need  be — that  it  may  grow ! 

And  in  its  center 

Construct  a  room 

Built  firm  with  parian  slabs 

And  blocks  of  flint 

And  on  an  ivory  throne 

With,  crystal  pillars  guarded 

Place  there  a  golden  scroll 

Held  open  by  a  hand — 

25 


And  in  this  scroll 

Set  diamonds 

That  shall  spell 

In  Saxon  words — 

America  did  this  thing — 

And  when  'tis  done 

No  surer  proof  there'll  be 

Of  dreamy  Immortality. 


THE  ATHEISM  OF  THE  MAN. 

Ye  paltry  being  that  dost  boast 

The  knowledge  of  a  god — 

The  wisdom  of  the  ages — 

Do  thou  one  starlit  night 

But  raise  from  lowly  sod 

Thine  eyes  and  gaze  where  stars, 

Innumerable  and  bright, 

Shine  on  the  puny  deeds  of  men. 

O  be  thou  of  earth's  sages! 

It  matters  not. 

Thy  deeds,  thy  asperations, 

Thy  wild  ambition,  and  delight 

In  what  it  seems  thou  hast  achieved 

Are  but  a  grain  of  sand 

Blown  on  the  wide  Saharah. 

O  self-wise  scholar! 

In  whose  hand  the  key 

Of  learning  dost  but  lightly  rest, 

Seal  up  thy  foolish  lips 

And  bind  the  wordy  sheaf.         , 

Thou  hast,  in  wanton  heart,     v 

Made  bold  to  say 

"There  is  no  God!"  •       •  • 

Look  on  the  budding  rose! 

26 


Behold  the  blade  of  grass! 

See  thou  the  coming  day, 

Bright  shod 

With  glory!   and  the  night 

Like  gentle  mass 

For  souls  that  pass  away ! 

Lift  up  thine  eyes  with  humble  faith 

And  know 

That  thou  art  let  to  be 

Is  proof  of  immortality! 


SAPPHO,  ALONE. 

Sappho!    sleeping  still  alone! 
The  moon  and  Pleiades  have  set, 
Full  half  the  lovely  night  has  flown 
And  thou!   and  thou  all  passionate! 

The  time  is  passing,  fair  one,  now 
Upon  thy  sweetly  swelling  breast 
And  on  thy  Grecian  Goddess  brow, 
Should  Phaon's  head  and  kisses  rest. 

Sappho!    sleeping  still  alone? 
O  wanton  sweet,  unknown  to  shame! 
From  Rapture's  arms  thy  lover  flown, 
Shall  live  his  flight  to  sorely  blame. 

ARRAIGNMENT  AND  ANSWER. 

Why  give  me  a  soul  to  suffer, 
Why  a  heart  but 'to  hurt? 
Is  the  glitter  of  life  worth  grasping, 
The  gold  to  dig' from  the  dirt? 

27 


God!  why  do  I  love  so  keenly? 
Did  you  place  me  here  for  a  jest? 
Can  I  never  break  down  the  barriers 
'Twixt  me  and  all  that  is  best? 

Did  I  ask  to  be  born  to  loving, 
To  loving  forever  alone? 
Then  pardon  my  foolish  rashness 
And  change  me  into  a  stone ! 

O  God  forgive  my  rebellion 
Or  yet  it  is  quite  too  late! 
And  God  to  my  soul  said  softly — 
"Comes  all  to  him  that  can  wait." 


THINGS  IN  HEAVEN  AND  EARTH. 

O,  the  sweet  scent  of  grasses, 

The  odor  of  violets 

And  new-mown  hay, 

When  love,  unfathomed,  passes 

In  garments  airy, 

An  unseen  fairy, 

Close  to  your  wandering  way. 

O,  the  choruses  of  morning, 
The  last  damp  mists  of  night, 
The  hour  of  mystic  seeing 
When  day  is  just  adorning, 
With  rosy  beams  of  light, 
Her  awakened  charms  of  night 
That  stir  her  lover's  being. 

O,  the  foaming  breast  of  billows, 
O,  the  soughing  of  the  pine 

28 


And  the  lonely  desert's  breath 
And  the  arm  from  out  the  willows. 
O,  the  mystery  of  life 
And  the  endlessness  of  strife 
And  the  going  down  to  death. 


GOOD-BY 

Good-by!  we  lightly  say  it  o'er, 
And  when  the  friend  has  gone 

And  we  have  shut  the  narrow  door, 
Joy  too  is  then  withdrawn. 

Alas !  and  did  we  know 

The  turning  of  a  street 
Would  bring  us  endless  woe, 

That  ne'er  again  his  feet 
Would  tread  within  our  hall, 

Think  you  Convention's  claim 
Would  put  on  Love  a  pall 

And  let  him  go, — the  same? 

Good-by!   O,  why  did  love  of  mine 

Not  brush  aside  its'  fear, 
And  arms  of  mine  entwine — entwine 

His  neck,  in  rapture  dear? 

Good-by!  he  thinks  I  love  him  not; 

He's  far  away,  amongst  the  years, 
While  life  to  me  is  ever  fraught 

With  pain  and  bitter  tears. 


O  SAY,  LITTLE  BOY! 

I'll  sail  away  to  lullaby  land 

Where  my  little  boy  goes  when  asleep, 

Where  the  cockle  shells  roll  on  the  yellow  sand 

And  the  water  is  only  knee  deep. 

And  along  the  shore  of  that  shining  strand 

We'll  meet  'neath  starry  domes 

And  you  and  I  with  hand  in  hand 

Shall  visit  the  little  homes 

Of  the  pretty  people  of  poppy  land, 

Who  receive  on  drowsy  day, 

And  the  little  brown  maids  with  a  brownie  band 

Shall  sing  in  a  wonderful  way 

And  the  trooping  fairies  from  the  hills  will  come 

As  the  mermaids  comb  their  hair. 

While  you  and  I  with  the  elfins  roam 

Each  star  has  a  golden  stair 

Stretching  away  o'er  the  waters  deep 

And  rising  into  the  night 

Where  the  angels  play,  and  will  not  sleep, 

Bo-peep  till  morning  light. 

O  say,  little  boy,  will  you  meet  me  there 
Beneath  the  gloaming  skies 
And  with  me  climb  the  starry  stair 
Up,  up  to  Paradise? 


GIVE  US  THIS  DAY  OUR  DAILY. BREAD 

"Give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread" 
Lisp  babes  in  a  lullaby 
And  the  little  ones  whose  prayers  are  said 
Asleep  on  their  pillows  lie. 


Tis  well — but  the  years  that  come 
Dispel  the  lessons  taught 
And  tender  hearts  grow  cold  and  numb 
While  bread  is  sold  and  bought. 

"Give  me  to  eat!"  the  beggar  cries 
"I'm  hungry  and  I  die !" 
And  Christ  looks  out  from  Paradise 
And  sees  the  rich  go  by. 


A  SINGER  OF  SONGS 

She  stands  before  her  shrine, 

All  lovely  and  all  fair 
And  laurel  leaves  entwine 

Her  golden  crown  of  hair. 

She  stands  at  music's  fount, 

Apollo's  devotee, 
The  fabled  swan  to  mount, 

She  stoops  with  bended  knee. 

Yet,  till  with  Paean  far  she  flies, 

I  watch  and  never  tire 
Of  glorious  songs  and  glorious  eyes 

Aglow  with,  deathless  fire. 

But  sweet  and  fairest  friend, 
With  song,  before  thy  shrine, 

Love's  worship  is  my  end; 
Your  harp  this  heart  of  mine. 


UNDINE 

A  youth  upon  a  lonely  sea  beach  lay 

And  dreamed  and  woke  and  dreamed  again  of 

Love; 

Awake  at  last, — it  was  the  close  of  day 
And  one  was  watching  him  from  rocks  above. 

She  was  a  nymph,  of  beauty  wild  and  fair, 
And  eyes  of  brown  spoke  longing  none  may  tell; 
Old  ocean's  water  dripped  from  golden  hair, 
And  sea  weed  from  her  graceful  shoulders  fell. 

Naked,  Undine  held  the  sea  weed  to  her  breast 
And  wound  it  with  her  hair  about  her  arms, 
And  there,  upon  the  golden  sands — her  love  con 
fessed — 
She  won  the  dreaming  youth  with  rosy  charms. 

The  last  red  gleams  of  sun  flashed  fiery,  rare, 
The  youth  vowed  love  and  worship  of  a  slave, 
Then  Undine  led  the  way,  with  flowing  hair, 
To  bridal  bed  in  rocky  cave. 

Nor  would  she  go  with  him  until  that  time, 
When  earth  and  air  and  sea  were  mild, 
When  every  heart  beat  soft  with  song  and  rhyme 
She  held  within  her  arms  a  little  child. 

Then  Undine's  bosom  thrilled  with  heaven's  joy, 
Her  virgin  dreams  had  borne  her  to  the  goal, 
For  as  she  pressed  to  rounded  breast  her  boy, 
She  knew  that  Love  had  given  her  a  Soul. 


BEAUTY  AND  LOVE 

Straight  is  the  line  of  beauty, 
Nor  curved  as  often  said: 
Look  far  away  o'er  ocean, 
Across  the  briny  bed. 

Straight  is  the  long  horizon, 
Straight  as  the  line  of  duty; 
Though  heaven  is  arched  above  us 
Straight  is  the  line  of  beauty. 

Old  ocean's  bed  is  bended, 
Old  ocean's  surface  too, 
But  beauty  is  not  ended 
When  curved  away  from  you. 

Straight  is  the  line  of  beauty! 
When  love  has  made  retreat 
The  heart  has  one  sweet  duty, 
Straight  to  the  maiden's  feet. 


HE  PLAYS  ON  HEART  OF  HERS 

He  plays  on  heart  of  hers, 
As  fingering  o'er  the  keys, 
Music  obeys  his  touch. 
In  her  sad  face  one  sees 
The  soul  in  passionate  clutch 
Of  love. 

He  plays  on  heart  of  hers, 
But  his  wild  love  has  flown 
To  other  skies; 
For  other  eyes 

33 


He  longs, 

And  songs 

Of  his  are  sung  full  fair, 

For  one  that  is  not  with  him  there. 

O  pity!  that  these  loves,  like  souls, 
Must  stray  and  miss  their  goals, 
These  loves  that  banish  hovering  night 
And  bring  to  us  untold  delight. 
Yet  whensoever  a  heart  doth  love, 
Somewhere,  however  late, 
In  garden  or  in  greenwood  grove, 
The  mourning  dove 
Will  find  its  mate. 


LONGINGS  SHE  LEFT  BEHIND 

Sweetheart,  you  have  gone  to  make  a  name, 

Fame's  castle  you  have  almost  built, 
But  know,  sweetheart,  time  runs  the  same 

And  castles  are  covered  with  gilt. 
Do  you  think  your  castle  so  fair  may  rise 

That  Time,  on  bended  knee, 
Shall  show  to  all  mens'  wondering  eyes 

Your  name,  my  Gertie  Lee? 

Do  you  think  the  lamps  that  cheer  the  night, 

Close  down  to  the  door  of  death, 
Are  filled  with  sparks  of  fame  all  bright 

Or  are  they  filled  with  breath? 
Breath  and  soul  and  baby  life, 

Small  hands  that  clasp  the  knee, 
Fairest  flowers  of  fame  or  wife 

O  gentle  Gertie  Lee! 


34 


Sweetheart,  I  long-  for  your  love  alway — 

To  share  in  your  love  and  life — 
I  long  for  your  arms,  your  eyes  each  day, 

Sweetheart- — my  darling — my  wife! 
But  if  Castle  of  Fame  shines  all  too  fair 

And  it  may  never  be 
You  will  find  me  waiting  for  you,  close  there 

By  the  gates,  O  Gertie  Lee. 

A  BUNCH  OF  ROSES 

Thy  birthday,  sweetheart, 

Is  my  birthday  too 
For  love  makes  my  heart  beat 

When  thoughts  are  of  you 
And  the  love  that  I  offer 

The  queen  of  my  soul 
Was  born  on  thy  birthday, 

Has  thee  for  its  goal. 
I  wish  thee,  my  sweetheart, 

A  happy  birthday 
And  I  send  thee  this  token 

In  sweet  old-time  way. 

ROME,  AMERICA— THE  DIFFERENCE 
A  Tribute  to  President  McKinley,  May,  ipoi. 

The  Caesar,  drunk  with  wine 

And  satiate  with  pleasure, 

Had  thought  of  going  forth 

Throughout  his  kingly  realm, 

But  feared  the  populace. 

Then  called  he  unto  him  his  lords 

And  bade  his  generals  pay  attention — 

"Arrest  whom  ye  may  at  night 

35 


Within  the  streets  of  Rome 

And  hang  them  on  the  morrow 

As  a  warning-  to  the  people, 

For  I,  the  Emperor,  will  go  abroad. 

Let  the  Pretorian  Guards  be  doubled 

To  wait  upon  my  presence 

Both  night  and  day. 

Send  noble  couriers  forth 

To  distant  portions  of  the  Empire, 

With  sword  and  honeyed  words, 

To  raise  a  tribute  for  our  pleasure, 

Then  gather  all  that's  good  and  fair 

From  out  our  vast  domain 

And  give  it  place  within  my  train — 

My  jewels  and  my  statuary, 

My  works  of  art  and  birds  and  beasts, 

And  those  that  sing  and  play  and  dance, 

Provided  that  they  shall  not  vie  with  Nero.- 

And  look  you  (privately) — 

Send  our  commands  to  Antium, 

To  Naples  and  through  Greece, 

That  wheresoever  Nero  plays  upon  the  lute 

And  sings  his  own  immortal  songs 

Men  shall  be  hired  or  forced  to  give  applause. 

And  list  you  now — 

Bring  from  her  vestal  shrine 

The  fairest  virgin  that  doth  serve  the  God, 

To  wait  upon  my  chamber 

And  ease  my  troubled  sleep." 

Thus  spake  the  Emperor  Nero 

And  they  that  heard  cried  out  in  fear : — 

"Caesar  can  do  no  wrong — 

Long  live  divinest  Caesar!" 

And  in  those  days  Rome  burned 
At  his  command; 

And  Caesar  looked — and  played  upon  his  lute. 
36 


The  President,  at  his  desk, 

Gave  heart  and  brain 

To  the  welfare  of  his  country. 

Great  deeds  of  state  were  his 

And  words  that  swayed  the  nations. 

Men's  lives  to  him  were  sacred, 

And  property  was  second  unto  life. 

Out  from  the  farthest  reaches  of  America 

There  came  the  call  of  loyal  sons 

To  see  their  Chiefest  Chief, 

And  he  was  prayed  to  go  abroad. 

New  England  sent  him  her  petition, 

And  far  to  the  South  the  loyal  land 

Made  ready  for  his  welcome. 

California  flashed  down  the  golden  beams 

Of  the  star  of  empire 

That  hangs  above  her  fairness, 

A  message  to  him  full  of  love, 

And  from  the  islands  of  the  sea 

There  came  the  call  of  new-born  citizens. 

'Twas  said  of  ancient  time 

"To  be  a  Roman  was  greater  than  to  be  a  King," 

But  we  that  live  to-day 

Rest  long  our  eyes  upon  the  land 

Where  Freedom  dwells, 

And  whisper — 

"God  bless  our  noble  President!" 


GARDENS  OF  SILENCE 

Shaded  with  cypress  where  the  virgins  lie 
Strewn  with  flowers  all  the  dead, 
Weeping  and  sighing  as  the  years  go  by, 
The  clouds  and  trees  overhead. 


37 


Fair  Gardens  of  Silence  throughout  the  land- 
Cities  of  dead  that  are  dear, 
Marble  and  granite  near  at  hand, 
Lilies  to  cover  up  fear. 

Close  to  the  school  and  church  and  home 
Not  far  from  the  pulse  of  trade 
Are  the  silent  gardens  where  mourners  roam 
In  the  gloomy  cypress  shade. 

Wheresoever  villages  dot  the  earth 
Or  smoke  curls  into  the  air 
Or  little  children  laugh  with  mirth, 
The  Gardens  of  Silence  are  there. 

LIGHTS  OF  THE  CITY 

O,  the  lights  of  the  throbbing  city 
That  gleam  o'er  her  pulsing  ways ! 
Like  the  stars  in  the  distant  heavens 
That  glitter  between  the  days. 

Do  you  know  of  the  terrible  distance 
Between  your  chilcjrens'  hearts? 
Do  you  dream  of  the  bitter  struggle, 
Each  night  in  the  city's  marts? 

The  stars  in  the  arching  heavens 
Can  tell  of  nature's  strife — 
They  see  the  awful  discords 
And  behold  the  heavenly  life; 

But  you,  O  lights  of  the  city, 
Is  your  gleam  never  shadowed  by  sin  ? 
Is  your  glow  but  a  semblance  of  pity 
To  be  hid  in  the  crush  and  the  din  ? 

38 


Do  you  know  the  hunger  and  sorrow 
That  pierce  and  stab  like  a  knife? 
You  brighten  but  ever  the  morrow 
Brings  ebbing  to  many  a  life. 

O  lights  of  the  groaning  city! 
You  see  Life's  tragic  side,  — 
You  shine  on  the  gay  and  the  witty 
And  the  hell  that  never  will  hide. 

O  the  glow  that  you  throw  about  passion ! 
O  the  gleam  that  you  shed  on  the  fair! 

0  the  glare  that  you  lend  to  gay  fashion 
And  the  guilt  that  you  find  ever  there! 

Shine  on,  O  lights  of  the  city! 
You  respect  not  actions  of  men, 
For  to  you  a  drunken  ditty 
Comes  close  on  a  solemn  amen. 

You  know  not  the  barter  of  virtue, 
You  heed  not  the  passion  or  prayer, 
Your  rays  shine  brightly  and  ever 
On  the  guilty,  the  gay  and  the  fair. 

But  to-night  as  I  look  o'er  the  city, 
On  her  lights  as  thick  as  the  stars, 

1  wonder  if  eyes  are  about  us 

As  glowing  and  mystic  as  Mars, — 

I  wonder  if  spirit  lights  glitter 
With  feelings  divergent  as  men, 
I  wonder  if  Easy  and  Bitter 
Are  weighed  in  the  balance  and  when. 


MY  LOVE,  THE  WIND 

Blow,  wild  wind,  over  desert  waste, 
Blow  here  upon  my  heart! 
I  raise  my  arms  with  passion's  haste 
And  love  thee  as  thou  art. 

Wind  of  the  desert,  wind  of  the  sea, 
Whose  fury  stilleth  men, 
Thou  blowest  hell  fires  out  for  me 
To  make  me  strong  again. 

O  wind  of  heaven,  wind  of  earth, 
Thou  bold,  brave  mystery! 
Thou  lovest  man  from  death  to  birth 
Throughout  life's  history. 

Then  here's  to  thee  beloved  wind, 
My  friend,  my  soul,  my  brother! 
If  nothing  else  in  life  I  find, 
We'll  love  for  aye  each  other. 


ONE  FROM  MILLIONS 

It  matters  not  what  things  you  do, 
It  matters  not  what  leave  undone, 
The  world  has  little  need  of  you 
To  carry  out  the  work  begun. 

Think  not  your  place  none  else  may  fill. 
Think  not  your  deeds  are  of  account, 
Do  naught  at  all  or  do  but  ill, 
Your  life  to  nothing  shall  amount. 


Like  ants  you  swarm  o'er  little  place, 
Like  sands  your  bones  lie  everywhere; 
And  whether  slow  or  swift  the  race, 
The  Gods  shall  neither  know  nor  care. 

But  sometimes  in  the  swing  through  space, 
An  arm  is  raised  in  might, 
A  giant  soul  illumes  a  face 
And  dawn  dispels  the  night. 

A  Christ  walks  through  the  groaning  land, 
A  Shakespeare  writes  unseen, 
Napoleon  gives  a  stern  command, — 
But  ages  run  between. 

Then  would  you  live,  and  not  exist, 
Strike!   strike!   immortal,  rouse! 
Peer  out  from  pall  of  blinding  mist, — 
A  coward  he,  that  bows ! 

THE  GARDEN  OF  THE  WORLD 

The  garden  of  the  world  is  fair 

And,  sheltered  by  some  mossy  wall, 

Where  never  blows  the  winter  storms, 

I  rest  and  watch  the  graceful  forms 

Of  maidens,  wandering  where  the  wild  birds  call. 

These  seem  to  be  the  fairest  forms  create. 
Their  arms  are  bare  and  laughing  eyes 
Look  into  mine,  and  cheeks  aglow 
With  throbbing  blood,  all  let  me  know 
That  I  have  found  earth's  paradise. 

Why  should  I  further  search 
Throughout  the  garden  of  the  earth? 

41 


Why  wander  on  where  death  and  pain 
Silence  with  grief  the  joyous  strain 
And  cover  up  the  coffined  mirth? 

A  stranger,  I  am  satisfied 
With  songs  of  birds  and  gardens  green, 
With  arching  blue  of  summer  skies, 
And  smiling  blue  of  woman's  eyes, 
Which  hint  of  happiness  unseen. 


A  FRAGMENT 

Ah  Gods!   I  wake  with  sighs, — 

Like  Sappho's  cries  when  Phaon  flies. 

Her  snowy  arms  and  beating  heart  are  dreams, 

And  yet, — in  ages  gone,  the  gleams 

From  her  dark  eyes  I  knew,  it  seems. 


MY  ONE  SWEET  THOUGHT 

My  one  sweet  thought!  I  hold  it  never 
Far  away  from  my  embrace 
And  dwell  upon  it  whensoever 
Would  I  harsh  pain  efface. 

It  comes  to  me  in  dark  despair, 
When  hard  earned  gains  are  quickly  lost 
It  comes  when  I  may  never  dare 
To  count  the  strife  and  bitter  cost. 

O,  sweetest  thought!  Usurper  thou 
Of  soul's  dependency  above! 
When  thou  dost .  come  my  head  I  bow 
And  realiz.e  .the power  of  Love.         ."  . 


When  days  are  cold  and  drear  with  care, 
Sweetheart,  thou  comest  close  to  me, 
My  one  dear  thought  is  doubly  fair 
While  at  Love's  shrine  I  worship  thee. 


ONE  HEART 

The  world  has  a  billion  people, 
Aye  the  world  has  many  more, 

Like  sands  where  the  waves  are  beating, 
Like  sands  on  the  long  sea  shore. 

A  friend  we  have  in  childhood,  — 

We  meet  and  play  and  part, 
Like  chips  on  the  waters  drifting 

With  neither  love  nor  heart. 

The  world  is  wide  yet  very  small, — 
The  world  is  small,  yet  O  how  wide ! 

And  while  we  taste  the  sweet  and  gall 
We  drift  like  chips  upon  the  tide. 

The  world  has  a  billion  people 

And  hearts  are  fain  to  roam 
Till  the  thought  comes  o'er  us,  stealing, 

There's  never  a  place  like  home. 

The  world  has  a  billion  people! 

The  race  will  soon  be  run ! 
Of  the  hearts  of  the  billion  people 

Love  one,  love  only,  one! 


43 


MY  DEAD  LOVE 

I  watch  the  crescent  moon 
Climb  up  the  arching  sky. 

The  river  bank  is  strewn 

With  reeds  and  grasses  high. 

I  lie  amongst  the  trees, 

As  climbs  the  crescent  moon, 

And  there  I  feel  the  breeze 
From  off  the  fair  lagoon. 

And  as  she  soars  on  golden  wings, 

A  virgin  not  yet  grown, 
The  insects  hum,  the  river  sings, 

And  I  am  not  alone. 

Ah,  not  alone! 

For,  at  this  mystic  hour, 
My  lost  one,  hither  flown, 

Comes  to  our  moonlit  bower, 

Where  oft  before,  beneath  the  boughs, 

I  felt  her  beating  heart, 

She  comes  again  to  hear  my  vows — 

She  comes,  but  only  part 

Is  here.    The  silvery  beams 

Of  light  shine  through  her  form, 

The  eyes  that  once  with  gleams 

Of  love  were  full,  now  storm 

My  soul  with  sadness. 

I  clasp  her  in  my  arms 

And  yet  she  is  not  there. 

My  brain  is  near  to  madness, 

I  touch  her  flowing  hair, 


44 


And  with  the  old  smile  on  her  lips, 
From  out  my  arms  she  gently  slips, 
And  when  I  hear  the  river's  moan, 
Upon  the  ground  I  lie  alone. 


THE  BRIGHT  SIDE 

She  swings  with  song  and  laughs  with  love, 
This  ancient  world  of  ours — 
She  sorrows  long  and  lifts  above 
Her  eyes  to  hidden  powers. 

Then  let  the  martyr  bare  his  head, 
The  sanctified  sing  psalms  — 
I'll  search  amongst  a  flowery  bed 
And  roses  give  for  alms. 

It  may  be  true  that  Sorrow's  hand 
With  weight  on  some  is  laid, 
But  why  see  gloom  and  running  sand 
Because  a  rose  will  fade? 

Then  let  sweet  youth  be  gaily  gowned, 
We'll  dance  and  not  alone — 
We'll  fill  the  air  with  laughter's  sound 
While  roses  red  are  strown. 


O  KISS  ME 

Give  me  one  warm  kiss! 

I  ask  no  more. 

I  know  you  love  me  not, 

But  give  me  this 

And  I  will  hold  it,  dear, — 

A  thousand  years  in  store. 

45 


Force  me  not  there 

Alone,  till  you  have  kissed  my  longing  lips 

As  you  have  done  before, 

When  you  and  I,  on  Grecian  Isles, 

Once  dwelt  and  youth  was  fair — 

Kiss  me  again,  ere  life  is  o'er! 

The  sweetness  of  the  kisses 

I  have  dreamed 

Of  giving  you! 

The  rapture  of  the  torture 

When  it  seemed 

As  if  you  knew! 

Sweet  is  first  love, 
Sweeter  than  breath, 
Too  dear  for  life, 
Sweet  unto  death, — 
Thus  was  it  that  I  died 
And  you  another's  bride. 

How  many  times  around 
Must  turn  the  wheel 
Of  birth  and  death, 
Till  you  will  love? 
Till  you  will  feel 
Your  lover's  breath — 
His  kisses? 

O  give  me  what  I  ask, 
One  wild,  sweet  kiss 
To  last  a  thousand  years, 
That  I  may  bask 
In  this  blest  thought 
Till  you  shall  love! 
O  kiss  me  now! 


QUIET  DREAMS 

And  sometimes  in  my  quiet  dreams 
The  years  roll  back  apace, 

I  see  as  oft  I  used  to  see 
A  fair,  sweet,  girlish  face — 

A  face  to  me  so  dear  in  past, 

Upon  this  lovelit  day 
I  think  to  find  again  at  last 
And  hold  in  sight  alway. 

THE  PATHOS  OF  THE  AGES 

A  particle  of  spirit  pure 

Dressed  in  garb  of  flesh  and  bone 
Drawn  to  earth  where  sirens  lure, 

Battling  blindly  for  its  own, — 
O,  the  pathos  of  the  coming 

O'er  the  road  trod  oft  before! 
O,  the  breasting  of  the  breakers 

Beating  on  life's  rugged  shore! 

Pity  shines  in  angel  faces, 

Guardian  angels  asking  trust, 
Tears  have  left  their  hallowed  traces 

In  their  faces  and  the  dust. 
Spirit  struggling  with  brute  forces 

Striving  bravely  with  fierce  lust — 
O,  the  pathos  of  the  ages 

Seen  in  wages  ever  just! 

Silence  sullen,  forehead  slanting, 
Sensual  longings,  centuries  through ,- 

Like  a  beast  with  passion  panting 
Strives  the  newborn  for  the  dew 

47 


Glistening  ever  in  its  forming 
On  the  spirit  heights  ahead, 

On  the  battlements  he's  storming, 
On  the  rocks  where  men  have  bled. 

Striving  ever,  groping  blindly, 

Knowing  not  the  life  he  wants, 
Thinking  that  the  dewy  twinkling 

Is  a  guide  to  sirens'  haunts, — 
Scoffed  at,  laughed  at  by  his  fair  ones, 

Fool  and  knave  in  him  shall  blend, 
He  it  is  that,  full  of  folly,  runs 

For  rainbow's  golden  end. 

O,  the  pity  of  the  struggling 

Through  the  years,  all  blindly  here! 
Grasping  at  the  straws  he's  passing, 

Drawing  nigh  to  death  with  fear, 
Lifting  loads  through  lengthy  years, 

Carrying  cares  with  furrowed  face, 
Beaten  back  while  blinding  tears 

Force  him  under  in  the  race. 

Death  again  comes  all  too  quickly, — 

How  he  clings  to  cruel  life! 
Lying  there  so  wan  and  sickly, 

Robbed  his  days  of  pleasures  rife. 
Death  and  birth  play  on  forever 

Back  and  forth  with  souls  of  men, 
Straining  each  upon  life's  lever, 

Bringing  rest  then  strife  again. 

O,  the  pathos  of  the  ages 

Ushered  in  with  blood  or  rhyme ! 
Swinging  on  while  battle  rages, 

Smiling  on  through  endless  time. 

48 


Born  again  for  sad  undoing, 
Learning  lessons  o'er  and  o'er, 

From  a  different  angle  viewing, 
Scaling  heights  oft  scaled  before. 

Now  he  hears  the  songs  of  angels, 

Sees  the  soul  in  other  eyes, — 
O,  the  pathos  of  his  longing 

As  his  spirit  fain  would  rise! 
Soaring  up  to  realms  of  heaven, 

Leaving  dross  and  lust  behind, 
Cutting  loose  from  earthly  leaven, 

Purified  by  spirit  mind. 

Life's  ambition  leaves  him  never, 

Stands  he  now  a  man  set  free 
Knowing  things  that  bind  and  sever 

In  the  troubled,  human  sea. 
O,  the  pity  of  the  knowing! 

O,  the  bitter  dregs  of  time! 
When  a  soul  with  spirit  glowing 

Sells  itself  to  sordid  crime, 

Leagues  itself  with  develish  doings, 

Startles  men  with  hidden  power, 
Sullies  self  with  lustful  wooings, 

Sucks  the  sweetness  of  the  hour. 
O,  the  pathos  of  the  falling! 

O,  the  depths  that  souls  can  go! 
O,  the  thoughts  forever  galling 

And  the  hell  of  bitter  woe! 

Ages  pass,  pathetic  ages, 

Till  that  soul  attains  once  more 

To  the  vantage  ground  of  victory, 
To  the  peaceful,  spirit  shore. 

49 


Ages  pass,  pathetic  ages, 

While  the  balance  weight  is  fair, — 
Weary  work  but  welcome  wages — 

Angels  singing  in  the  air. 

Angels  singing,  guardian  angels, 

Guiding  souls  the  long  road  o'er, 
Smiling  ever  on  the  striving, 

Guiding  up  from  out  the  lower. 
O,  the  pathos  of  the  ages 

Where  God  only  knows  the  way ! 
O,  the  pity  that  the  stages 

Mark  the  paths  where  all  souls  stray! 

Now  he  stand  where  eyes  of  mortal 

May  not  see  his  guiding  hand, 
May  not  see  the  pearly  portal 

At  the  gates  of  spirit  land. 
He  has  won  one  fairest  garland, 

He  has  scaled  one  height  aloft, 
He  is  there  in  spirit  starland 

With  the  angels'  music,  soft. 

Dare  one  say  to  all  earth's  people, 

Dare  one  say  to  you,  O  friend, 
That  the  Heaven's  rest  you  long  for 

Is  a  struggle  without  end, — 
That  the  City's  gates  all  glowing 

And  the  streets  of  jasper  there 
Are  but  milestones  in  the  going 

To  another  land  more  fair? 

O,  the  pathos  of  the  ages 
Pictured  out  in  lives  of  men! 

O,  the  onward  roll  that  sages 

May  not  bound  by  "Now"  or  "Then"! 

50 


But  the  faith  we  learn  from  pity, 

Pity  crying  in  the  land, 
Bringeth  souls  to  Heavenly  City 

In  the  hollow  of  God's  hand. 

SOUTH— NORTH 

Languid  lady  of  the  South, 

Psyche  in  a  sensuous  clime, 
Satiate  with  kiss  of  mouth, 

Weary  of  love's  try  sting  time, 
Dreaming  through  the  dolorous  day 

Of  snowy  lands  far,  far  away— 
Go  thou  to  a  Northern  coast, 

Thy  dream  shall  surely  be  thy  host. 


THE  SWING  OF  THE  PENDULUM 

Ten  thousand  years  ago 
There  was  a  day  of  battle, 
When  women  fought  as  men 
With  swords  and  spears, 
That  pierced  like  horns  of  cattle. 
Strong,  naked  women  rode 
Astride  fierce  chargers — 
Ten  thousand  years  ago. 

Long  hair  from  riders  streamed 

And  unclothed  forms  lay  dead 

Beside  the  way. 

Fair  breasts  gave  blood  instead 

Of  milk,  that  day 

And  unveiled  bosoms  gleamed, 

For  woman  first  was  in  the  fray. 

51 


The  pendulum  now  far  has  swung 

The  other  way,  and  great 

The  change  in  men! 

While  triflers  think  a  steady  course 

Of  time  doth  wait 

On  culture  and  the  rule  of  pen, 

That  Love  hath  taken  place  of  Force. 


THE  THREE  DESIRES 

A  boy  with  golden  locks  and  dreamy  eyes 

Filled  full  the  daylight  hours  — 
He  went  in  chase  of  butterflies 

And  birds  and  rarest  flowers. 

His  playmates  offered  him  a  share 

Of  berries  picked  and  birds'  nests  robbed  . 

But  he  returned  with  tangled  hair 
To  mother's  arms  and  sobbed,  and  sobbed. 

And  as  the  child  dropped  off  to  sleep 

Upon  his  little  trundle  bed 
He  sobbed  again  in  sorrow  deep, 

"I  could  not  find  my  flower  all  red!" 

A  youth  of  beauty  rare,  with  flashing  eyes, 

Always  accompanied  pleasure 
And  tried  to  go  where  Cupid  flies 

When  lilting  o'er  his  measure. 

He  played  with  Love  and  passed  with  Passion 
Through  groves  in  Grecian  isles, — 

He  laughed  with  Love  and  silly  Fashion 
And  then  retraced  the  weary  miles. 


The  mother  arms  were  old  and  weak 

But  mother  heart  the  same, — 
The  youth  returned  to  comfort  seek 

And  sobbing  shook  his  frame. 

And  as  he  knelt  at  close  of  day 
With  buried  face  at  mother's  side 

He  sobbed  again  in  childhood's  way 
"I  could  not  find  my  dreamland  bride!" 

A  man,  in  ways  of  men  grown  old, 
With  poet's  brow  and  earnest  eyes, 

Who  knew  that  flesh  is  only  mold, 
That  spirit  soars  beyond  the  skies, 

Sought  day  and  night  throughout  the  years 

To  solve  life's  riddle,  dark, 
Read  ancient  books,  gave  prayer  and  tears, 

On  spirit  heights  to  set  his  mark. 

But  with  his  last  and  failing  strength 

He  turned  his  footsteps  brave 
Toward  mother's  love,  O  weary  length 

Of  road!   he  found  her  grave. 

And  as  he  knelt  where  flesh  is  robbed, 

Where  kneel  old  age  and  youth, 
He  whispered,  as  he  sobbed  and  sobbed, 

"I  could  not  find  God's  hidden  truth!" 

THEN  MINSTREL  PUT  THE  VIOL  DOWN 

Last  night  we  sang  the  old,  sweet  songs, 
Familiar  all  and  dear, 
And  with  the  words  forgot  our  wrongs, 
Forgot  our  pain  and  fear. 

53 


For  eyes  met  eyes  and  voices  played 
On  tender  chords  of  love 
While  hearts  beat  gently  and  obeyed 
The  rhythm  from  above. 

But  when  the  bow  stole  o'er  the  strings 
Of  tragic  violin 

The  frenzied  fears  that  passion  brings 
Came  weirdly  stealing  in. 

O  minstrel,  play  no  more, — beware! 
A  wraith  has  seized  the  bow, 
A  human  cry  is  in  the  air 
And  well  the  cry  we  know. 

The  rise  and  fall  of  that  wild  strain 
Is  soul  of  love's  sad  sobs, 
That  subtle  note  doth  wake  the  pain 
In  human  heart  which  throbs. 

Then,  minstrel,  put  the  viol  down — 
Sing  only  songs  we  love, 
The  maidens'  songs  which  bring  no  frown, 
Like  cooings  of  a  dove. 


WRAITHS 

Sweet   beings   come   to   me   with    dawn's   dear 

charms, 

Fair  pictures  making, 

And  I  would  clasp  them  in  my  slumb'rous  arms, 
As  I  am  waking. 

They  stay,  nor  will  they  go! 
Like  tale,  just  read, 

54 


They  rend  my  heart,  while  well  I  know 
Their  forms  are  dead. 

The  loved  ones  lost  in  childhood's  days 
Return  from  out  the  grave! 
My  brother  speaks,  in  boyish  ways, 
My  mother's  smiles  I  crave, 

And  not  in  vain.    She  comes,  aglow 
With  loving  eyes, 

And  then,  with  pain,  I  wake  and  know 
That  dreams  are  lies. 


WOMAN'S  LOVE 

They  stood  by  the  gate  of  the  old  farm  place 
And  the  stars  shone  down  on  a  vow 

And  he  kissed  her  there  on  her  upturned  face 
And  he  kissed  her  fair  on  her  brow. 

The  stars  shine  down  forever  and  aye — 
They  say  they  are  steadfast  and  true, 

But  he  bade  her  there  a  long  good-by 
As  the  stars  shone  down  on  the  dew. 

In  the  city's  gleam  and  the  city's  glare 

He  found  a  life  that  was  new 
And  gone  was  the  face  so  young  and  fair 

That  he  left  with  the  stars  and  the  dew. 

But  the  cultured  grace  of  a  worldly  face 

He  found  in  the  banquet  hall 
And  the  gleam  of  an  arm  from  out  the  lace 

And  the  boson's  rise  and  fall. 


55 


0,  where  is  the  man  with  love  so  fair? 

O,  where  is  the  man  so  strong? 
He  kissed  her  face  and  he  kissed  her  hair 

And  her  love  was  his  for  a  song; 

Then  a  soul  was  sunk  in  deep  disgrace, — • 
'Twas  O,  for  the  love  of  youth! 

Twas  O,  for  the  gate  of  the  old  farm  place 
And  the  eyes  so  full  of  truth! 

But  the  moving  finger  would  not  pause 

Nor  half  a  line  erase 
And  the  beauty  fair  beneath  the  gauze 

Was  gone  with  a  clouded  face. 

They  stood  by  the  gate  of  the  long,  long  way 
And  death  held  aloof  for  a  space, 

For  she  had  come  at  the  break  of  day 
With  the  love  in  her  poor,  thin  face. 

Her  hands  were  hard  and  her  gown  was  old, 
They  told  her  that  death  was  near, 

But  her  heart  was  true  and  pure  as  gold 
And  her  love  knew  never  a  fear, 

So  she  pressed  her  lips  to  his  cold,  white  brow 
And  his  head  she  held  on  her  breast 

As  she  whispered  over  the  old  time  vow 
Neath  the  stars  that  sank  in  the  west. 

But  death  stands  ready  forever  and  eye 
With  his  scythe  and  his  winding  sheet, 

So  she  bade  him  there  a  long  good-by 
And  kissed  him  fond  and  sweet. 


THE  ENVIED  ROSE 

She  wears  a  rose  just  budding  now, 

O  rose,  that  I  were  thou! 
Red  rose  she  wears  in  her  wavy  hair, 

O  rose,  that  I  were  there! 
She  wears  a  glow  on  her  lovely  brow, 

A  glow  from  a  life  of  truth, 
And  O,  that  I  might  wanton  tear 

A  kiss  from  lovely  youth! 


THE  SORCERESS 

She  thunders  forth  the  words  of  law ! 

In  regal  gown,  bedecked  with  stones, 

She  dazzles  untaught  eyes. 

With  queenly  grace  she  stands 

Without  a  spot  or  flaw, 

Her  tragic  voice  the  groans 

Of  men.    Her  every  step  defies: 

Her  eyes  observe  the  outstretched  hands. 

Eternity!    Eternity!   thy  angel  fair  is  she! 
With  right  arm  raised  and  flashing  eyes 
She  speaks  for  time  long  past ; 
With  hand  across  her  gleaming  brow 
Her  piercing  glance  can  see 
What  future  has  of  truth  and  lies 
What  things  shall  die  and  what  shall  last 
And  men,  agast,  behold  and  bow. 


57 


BLOOD 

Before  the  Gates  of  Pekin — July- August — Jpoo. 

The  days  of  earth  are  full  of  grim  portent ! 

The  swaddling  clothes  of  Peace 

Were  changed  to  whitest  fleece, 

A  garment  without  rent. 

And  Peace  herself  stood  out, 

In  that  pure  garb  of  white 

And  brooding  wings  of  War  and  doubt 

Withdrew  in  face  of  her  fair  might. 

Then  struck,  with  clanging  sound, 

The  mailed  hand  of  War, 

And  shrieking  eagles  swooped  to  ground 

And  scattered  swift,  and  tore 

The  white-winged  doves  of  Peace, 

And  smell  of  blood  gave  lease 

To  thrust  of  sword  and  cannon's  roar. 

The  greed  of  men  that  made  Rome  fall, 
The  curse  of  gold,  on  high  and  low, 
The  grasp  of  might  that  crushes  all 
And  gleans  what  others  bled  to  sow, 
Are  things  that  Hell  has  lent. 

The  Lion,  on  the  Afric  plains, 
Has  strode  where  Freedom  dwelled 
And  Britain  has  increased  her  gains, 
While  Liberty  is  felled. 

America!    the  arms  of  millions, 
Strike  in  wrath  at  Thee, 
While  Ignorance  shows  defiance, 
Instead  of  bended  knee. 

SB 


America!  the  proudest  name 
That  man  has  ever  penned, 
Upon  Thy  Banner  never  blame 
Has  found  a  place  to  sully  Fame — 
Stand  clear  while  nations  rend! 

Blood  drips  from  hoary  locks  of  Strife, 
Death  stalks  on  land  and  sea, 
Grim  War  has  come  again  to  life 
And  Peace  is  forced  to  flee. 

Blood  and  Battle  is  the  cry! 

The  Battle  Kings  are  drawing  nigh! 

Might  and  Ignorance  thrust  and  bound! 

The  Gods  contend !  and  on  the  ground 

Where  millions  swarm,  the  sound 

Of  blows,  the  death  withstood 

Give  lie  to  human  brotherhood! 


TILL  THEN  AND  YET  UNTIL 

You  do  not  bid  me  wait — 

Then  wait  I  will. 
You  do  not  bid  me  love — 

Then  love  I  still, 
Until  the  soul  is  dead 

Till  then  and  yet  until. 


COMMUNION 

In  a  quiet,  desert  twilight 

One  lone  star  came  faintly  out  • — 
Only  I  was  there  to  see  it 

With'  the  desert  vast,  about 

59 


Then  the  desert  sang  her  night  song 
As  the  sea  sings  far  from  land 

And  the  wind  blew  over  billows, 
Ever  white,  of  shifting  sand. 

And  the  spirit  of  the  vastness, 
Almost  human,  something  more, 

Spoke  to  me  in  gentle  murmur 
Like  the  waves  along  the  shore. 

Look  above  thee  in  the  heavens! 

Where  that  one  star  faintly  shone 
Many  more  shine  round  about  it — 

Nothing  living  lives  alone. 

When  in  Time's  fair  early  morning, 
Time  that  was  not  nor  is  yet, 

Full  of  sweet  and  purest  longing 
Brahm  a  world  did  first  beget, 

Then  it  was  that  starry  friendship 
Came  to  life  for  evermore, 

Brahm  created  for  communion, 
Dotted  space  with  planets  o'er. 

THAT  WHICH  I  SCORNED 

Love  came  to  a  boy  in  a  quiet  place 
And  changed  his  life  in  a  day, 
Pride  came  to  a  girl  with  a  lovely  face 
And  she  journeyed  far  away. 

The  boy  and  the  girl  were  playmates  long 
In  the  village  by  the  sea, 
Love  came  to  the  boy  and  sang  his  song 
And  he  dreamed  of  naught  but  me. 

60 


And  he  told  me  there  of  love's  sweet  dream 
In  the  village  by  the  sea, 
But  my  heart  was  full  of  the  glint  and  gleam 
Of  the  life  I'd  planned  for  me. 

Years  went  by — Fate  brought  me  all 
And  more  than  I'd  asked  of  life, 
I  tasted  the  sweet  and  not  the  gall — 
Fate  crowned  me  in  the  strife. 

Men  asked  me  for  love  and  swore  their  faith. 

Knights  on  bended  knee, 

But  between  us  oft  I  saw  the  wraith 

Of  the  love  he  sang  to  me. 

O,  dreaming  boy  that  sang  love's  song 
In  the  village  by  the  sea, 
Where  is  the  heart  grown  brave  and  strong 
That  once  you  offered  me? 


WORSHIP— A  WRAITH 

Up  from  the  strife  of  a  callous  world 

Comes  the  shout  of  unbelief, 

Out  from  the  struggling  mass  of  souls 

The  fret  with  the  common  lot. 

As  steals  the  baseborn  thief, 

The  cry  that  God  is  not. 

Hand  in  hand  with  the  pride  of  living 
Goes  the  blackened  form  of  lust, 
On  with  the  stride  of  progress 
The  tiger  to  leap  and  tear. 
And  men  go  down  in  the  dust 
And  cries  go  up  in  the  air. 

61 


Wooed  by  sons  of  men  to-day 

Is  the  ghost  of  a  living  faith 

And  wisdom's  pearls  from  the  beach  of  time 

Are  poorer  than  common  stones. 

And  worship  is  but  a  wraith 

Who  rattles  her  shrunken  bones. 

THE  MYSTIC  SECRET 

'Twas  at  a  ball  in  winter  time, 

Old  earth  was  white  with  snow 

And  youth  and  age  and  song  and  rhyme 

Were  there  with  music  low. 

And  I,  a  youth  with  throbbing  heart, 
Had  come  at  Love's  behest 
To  feel  again  the  pointed  dart 
Hid  fair  in  maiden's  breast. 

And  as  I  stood,  all  but  concealed 
'Neath  palms  from  southern  skies, 
I  caught  that  flash  and  'twas  revealed, 
The  secret,  all,  in  woman's  eyes. 

FAME  AND  LOVE 

Stretch  high  on  marbled  Fame 
Thine  arm  and  write  aflame 
In  letters  fair,  thy  name, 
O  friend! 

Yet  higher  stretch  thine  hand 
And  write  so  fair  that  running  sand 
Of  thine  shall  pause,  while  band 
Of  critics  cold  give  meed 

62 


Of  praise  and  peoples  read 
And  hear  of  thee  afar, 

0  friend! 

And  if,  in  mire 
Bent  low, 

1  higher 

On  Fame's  marble  help  thee 

Write  again  thy  name, 

Freely  will  I  bend  so — 

To  do  it  not  would  be  my  shame. 

And  when  'tis  there  aloft, 
Thy  name  in  letters  soft 
Of  golden  gleams  all  fair, 
I'll  climb  as  high 
As  thou  my  friend  the  stair 
That  all  men  try. 

And  by  thy  name  aflame 
With  trembling  hands 
I'll  write  my  fame 
As  thou  didst  write, 
While  pause  the  sands 
In  endless  time 
To  wait  on  might, 
On  song  and  rhyme. 

And  when  men  see  on  marble  shaft 
Thy  name  and  mine  with  equal  craft 
Carved  there  in  scroll  of  Fame 
I'll  come  and  kiss  thy  angry  brow 
And  tell  thee  that  I  love  thee  now, 
And  ever  shall  the  same. 


CHRIST  BEFORE  PILATE 

Two  thousand  years  ago, 

Before  a  slave  of  Caesar, 

There  stood  a  man 

That  was  a  King-. 

And  the  slave  cleansed  his  hands, 

White  over  a  mantel 

That  hid  a  blackened  heart, 

And  the  King  was  taken  to  his  death. 

Gloom  hung  about  Calvary. 
On  the  faces  of  the  rabble 
There  was  gloom. 
Gloom  was  on  the  earth, 
Yet  rejoiced  were  the  stars 
For  the  prestage  was  of  peace. 
The  stone  was  rolled  away, 
The  King  came  forth 
And  glorious  was  the  resurrection. 

PUNISHMENT 

And  whose'er  with  trifling  hand 
Shall  strike  Love's  sacred  Harp 
And  on  its  strings  divine 
Breathe  one  unhallowed  breath, 
The  Gods  shall  make  repine 
And  bring  to  direst  death. 

A  NIGHT  WITH  FATE 

Bedeviled  by  grin  Satanic, 

Hiding  human  heart  beats, 
Fate  walked  in  early  morning, 

With  me,  through  city  streets. 


Toilers  and  grinders  were  plodding 

Away  to  their  daily  strife, 
With  the  sullen  faces  of  oxen, 

To  earn  the  bread  of  life. 

Up  through  the  smoke  of  a  century 

A  patch  of  blue  I  saw, 
But  the  eyes  of  the  slave  looked  downward, 

The  winter  wind  was  raw. 

Fate  grinned  as  he  hailed  a  toiler, 

Swinging  along  the  way, 
"Ho  Richard!    How  like  you  living? 

Was't  better  in  ancient  day?" 

Instantly  the  man's  form  straightened, 
Eyes  flashed  with  a  kingly  flame — 

He  stood  there  a  ruler  in  triumph, 
The  Richard  of  England's  fame. 

Fate  beckoned  me  ever  onward, 

We  entered  the  factory  door 
And  there  in  a  hundred  faces 

The  ghastly  tale  read  o'er. 

Men  sang,  but  there's  singing  and  singing 
And  the  song  that  covers  a  woe 

Were  better  shorn  of  beginning 
In  the  centuries  long  ago. 

In  the  slums  of  the  throbbing  city 

We  know  men  live  and  die: 
Fate  called,  I  hurried  onward 

For  I  heard  a  woman's  cry. 


In  clutch  of  the  mob,  an  outcast 
Whose  hair  was  streaming  wide  — 

Sobs  shook  her  naked  bosom, 
But  Fate  walked  by  her  side. 

"Ho,  ho,  my  royal  lady! 

How  sets  the  beggar's  gown? 
How  like  you  this  old  earth  again  ? 

And  where  has  gone  thy  crown?" 

As  clouds  before  a  winter's  gale 
Went  cries  to  welcome  death — 

The  beggar  rose  with  royal  mien, 
She  was  Elizabeth. 

Fate  grinned  no  more,  but  in  his  face 
Shone  pity  and  sweet  sorrow, 

A  tear  for  all  the  human  race 
Who  live  again  to-morrow. 

I  hurried  as  he  beckoned  oft 
And  paused  beside  the  tide: 

He  spoke  and  pointed  to  the  sun — 
"Life  has  a  happier  side." 


WHAT'S  TO  DO? 

A  lily  white  love  is  my  lady  fair 

Yet  am  I  not  elate 

And  bonny  and  brown  her  waving  hair 

But  cruel  is  my  fate, 

For  I  may  never  tell,  all  fond, 

The  threefold  story,  sweet — 

My  aching  heart  doth  quite  despond 

And  fall  at  Amor's  feet. 

66 


For  I  with  lowly  toil  am  worn, 
Comes  she  of  high  estate 
And  Cupid's  wings  are  sadly  torn 
Nor  can  he  more  shoot  straight. 

THE  OCEAN  BURIAL 

Bury  in  cold  and  chilly  earth 
Unfeeling,  chilly  hearts — 
To  her  embrace  let  them  return 
From  out  the  crowded  marts 
Of  cities,  lost  to  joyous  mirth. 

But  one,  young,  gentle  and  refined 

Whose  clay  must  lie  rest, 

For  such  fair  temple  let  us  find 

A  place  'neath  ocean's  breast 

And  bid  her  lie  where  waves  are  kind. 

It  is  not  well  that  fair  and  lovely  forms 

Should  rest  where  worms  may  crawl, 

'Neath  damp  and  callous  earth  at  last 

The  rounded  limbs  that  did  enthrall — 

Dead  shells  on  ocean's  bed  are  safe  from  storms ! 

Then  place  her  there  and  shed  no  tears, 
Where  wave  the  tinted  arms  of  weeds 
With  rainbow  hands  and  prismic  eyes, 
O  leave  here  there  at  last!   'neath  reeds 
That  rise  and  fall  through  days  and  years. 

The  glow  of  pearls  close  by  her  head, 
The  trailing  weed  a  winding  sheet, 
Where  colored  fishes  softly  kiss 
And  tufty  moss  upholds  her  feet, 
Where  ocean  flowers  adorn  the  dead. 


SWEETHEART 

Sweetheart,  I  sail  away  to  thee 
Wherever  the  helmsman  steers, 

Whenever  the  main  is  wild  and  free 
My  hope  doth  banish  tears. 

Sweetheart,  I  strive  alway  for  thee 
Wherever  my  swift  feet  tread, 

What  task  my  eager  eyes  may  see 
'Tis  done  for  hope  ahead. 

Sweetheart,  of  thee  I  dream  alway 
'Neath  stars  and  summer  skies 

And  by  thy  side  I  long  to  stay 
And  read  thy  shining  eyes. 

'Tis  true  I  know  thee  not,  Sweetheart 

Nor  are  thy  kisses  real, 
But  still  of  me  art  thou  a  part, 

My  own,  my  fond  ideal. 

HUMAN  WATERS 

Thou  breathing,  pulsing,  human  stream 

That  flows  through  tortuous  streets, 

Winding,  gliding,  rushing  on 

To  where  a  cross  road  meets 

And  ever  on — fast — slow 

And  fast  again, 

With  head  erect  and  shoulders  square, 

With  drooping  mien  and  eyes  that  dare 

Not  look  above — 

Whose  spray  is  cast  aside, 

Whose  beggars  cry  aloud 

And  ask  for  alms, 

68 


Whose  lame  and  halt  can  not  abide 

The  crush — 

The  rush 

Of  human  will — 

The  restless  stride! 

Thou  human  water 

That  dost  cross  a  bridge 

O'er  other  waters,  flowing, 

That  take  thy  spray  as  theirs — 

Thou  heartless  thing 

That  dost  wind  and  glide 

Past  fanes  and  grave  yards 

But  hast  never  time  to  pray, 

Laughing, 

Dancing, 

Singing  on 

With  ever  ears  for  joy, 

With  never  tears  for  groans! 

Thou  parricide, 

Thou  murderer — grim  visaged  , 

Thou ! — whose  hand  doth  brush 

From  youthful  cheek  its  flush, 

Whose  iron  doth  burn 

From  youthful  hearts 

Their  charm  and  grace, 

Whose  onward  swirl  doth  people  hell 

And  temper  souls  for  paradise! 

Thou,  thou! — 

I  throw  myself  upon  thy  breast 

And  with  thee  hurry  on! 

Where  to? 

Speak,  speak 

And  tell! 

Or  do  but  murmur  in  mine  ear 

If  downward  be  the  way. 


THE  HEART  THAT  THROBS  INTENSE 

The  mind  that  grasps  at  grandest  things, 
(The  heart  that  throbs,  intense), 
Doth  soar  aloft  on  spirit  wings 
In  realms  unknown  to  ignorance. 


WOMAN'S  EYES 

In  a  second  — 

With  the  lift  and  turn  of  a  lash, 
My  soul  to  hers  was  beckoned; 
I  saw  the  gleam  and  flash 
Of  eyes — her  own — 

0  Life !  it  stirs 
Eternity's  dormant  passion, 
In  Eternity's  olden  fashion. 

1  saw  what  gleamed ! 
It  pierced  my  youth ! 
And  now  what  seemed, 
Is  changed  to  truth. 

What  was  it  I  beheld? 
Listen,  listen! 
The  flash  of  eyes! 
Eternal  law 
Revealed.    The  rise, 
The  fall,  the  ebb,  the  flow, 
The  high,  the  low, 
The  summer  skies, 
The  sunset  glow, 
And  passion's  sweets, 
Her  fond  heart  beats! 


70 


UNFATHOMABLE 

You  thought  you  knew  what  love  was 

A  life  time,  most,  ago — 
You've  loved  and  hated  and  suffered 

But  still  you  do  not  know. 

You've  scaled  the  highest  mountain 
And  throbbed  in  the  arms  of  art — 

Measured  the  depths  of  ocean, 
But  never  the  human  heart. 

Gods  may  sense  the  eternal, 

The  angels  may  know  its  goal — 

Each  may  fathom  the  other, 
But  never  a  woman's  soul. 

IMPATIENCE  FOR  FAME 

O  Time!  wilt  thou  not  hurry? 
To-night  I  wait  unhappy,  in  my  room 
As  bride  awaits  the  lagging  groom. 
And  near  are  books  and  papers  strewn, 
Fame's  favorites  I  behold,  and  soon 
Fame's  favor  I  would  curry. 

Ambition,  rouse!  rouse  up  and  do — 
Thou  sweetest  thing  that  God 
Has  stirred  in  cup  of  Life, 
Warm  breath  of  Being,  Soul  of  strife, 
Give  me  Fame's  wings  ere  I  to  sod 
Return,  and  Life  is  through. 

The  few  that  act  upon  Life's  stage! 
This  man  that  writes  a  book! 
That  woman  in  whose  fiery  look 


Is  food  for  printed  sheet, 
Whose  words  of  song  are  meet 
To  make  men  weep  or  rage! 

I  will !   I  will  do  things  as  great ! 

Nor  shall  I  wait  on  laggard  Time ! 

I'll  write  such  words  in  frenzied  rhyme 

That  men  shall  pause,  and  feel 

Like  soldiers  thrust  with  pointed  steel! 

O  hurry  Time,  come  on  like  Fate! 

"Hush,  foolish  one,  hast  thou  not  learned/ 
Spake  voice  within  my  heart, 
"That  Time  is  not — that  Art 
Doth  flee  from  all  save  giant  hands 
That  build  so  strongly,  that  the  sands 
Of  life  are  backward  turned  ? 

"Do  thou  thy  work,  think  not  of  balm 
That  soothes,  if  name  of  thine  is  sought; 
Most  things,  at  last,  shall  come  to  naught ; 
The  song  shall  cease  and  book  decay, 
But  thought  shall  live,  if  in  it  ray 
Of  Truth  is  seen,  strong,  pure,  and  calm." 


72 


Poems  of  California  and  the  West 
A  SIGN 

O  YE  THAT  LOVE  OUR  WESTERN 

SHORES, 

MORE  FAIR  THAN  ANCIENT  GREECE, 
HERE    FOR    THE   WORLD    ARE    OPEN 

DOORS 
AND  GOD  HAS  WET  HIS  FLEECE! 


A  CITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

O,  city  of  a  poet's  dream! 
By  mountains  girt  about, 
With  valleys  full  of  glossy  gleam 
Of  orange  trees,  that  often  seem 
To  raise  their  arms  with  offerings 
Of  sweet  and  golden  profferings, 
Too  fair  for  gods  to  doubt. 

Grand  mountains  rise  on  either  side, 
Snow-capped  in  summer  days 
And  far  away  to  distant  tide, 
Throbbing,  passionate,  like  virgin  bride, 
Billowy  mists  of  green  and  blue 
Rise  and  fall  with  every  hue 
That  artist  sees  in  blended  rays. 

And  where  on  heights  Diana  drove 
Now  man  hath  wrought  in  nature's  ways, 
Fair  gardens,  fit  for  gods  to  rove, 
Through  airy  aisles  and  lemon  grove 
To  smell  the  balm  like  that  which  blows 
From  Thessaly. 

Man  here  forgets  his  shadowy  woes, 
And  dreams  with  Love  of  coming  days. 

And  looking  off  where  vision  ends, 
On  rolling  depths  the  eye  alights, 
While  azure  blue  of  heaven  bends, 
Down,  down,  and  then  with  ocean  blends, 
Until  the  sight  of  man  is  dim, 
And  mystic  thoughts  steal  over  him 
And  raise  him  up  to  awful  heights. 


75 


O,  city  of  a  favored  land! 

O,  virgin  ne'er  to  mate! 

Thy  mountains  'round  thee  grimly  stand, 

Thy  fairness  is  on  every  hand, 

While  Star  of  Empire,  Westward  bent, 

Unto  thy  name  acclaim  has  lent, 

Thy  future  shall  be  great. 

THE  SPIRIT  OF  LOS  ANGELES. 

Ethereal  dweller,  neath  southern  skies, 
With  shining,  yellow  hair 
Where  gloom  awing  with  wishing  flies 
And  life  is  fond  and  fair, 

What  gardens  of  the  gods  aglow 
Were  tended  with  thy  care 
Before  this  summer  land  could  know 
Thy  spirit  in  the  air? 

Thou  siren  near  the  silvery  shore 

Of  verdant  flowery  lands 

The  gods  bend  down  to  love  thee  more— 

To  kiss  thy  dimpled  hands! 

On  rugged  Sierra  Madra's  crest 
The  tall  dark  pines  are  sighing 
That  they  might  clasp  thy  virgin  breast 
Where  moonbeams  find  thee  lying. 

And  on  the  hardened  ocean  beach 
The  waves  are  laughing,  foaming— 
Tfyen  ever  strive  to  nearer  reach 
Were  thou  art,  ever  roaming. 


76 


The  orange  trees  stretch  out  their  arms 
With  golden  profferings  laden 
And  nodding  flowers  bend  low  their  charms 
To  worship  such  a  maiden. 


HAIL  TO  THE  CHIEF 

Thou  art  come, 
Chieftain  of  the  Nation! 

In  ancient  Greece 

There  woke  a  singer  once 

And  in  the  centuries 

That  have  flown 

She  has  been  called 

By  men 

The  Poet. 

Naught  may  be  used 

To  greater  make 

That  which  greatest  is, — 

Fate  ne'er  surer  flew 

Because  the  lesser  powers 

Hung  trappings  on  his  wings, — 

And  so  we  hail  thee  Chief 

And  call  the  country  that  thou  rulest 

The  Nation  of  the  earth. 

Here  where  Junipero  came, 

Where  Spain's  bold  flag 

Dripped  blood  upon  the  land, 

Where  Fremont  stood 

The  outpost  of  the  New 

And  glittering  gold 

Was  wooed  by  all  the  world, 

In  triumph  thou  art  come, 

Through  groves  of  green 

77 


Arid  vales  of  nodding  flowers, — 
And  in  the  Western  heart 
Enough  there  is  still  left 
Of  ancient  loyalty 
Unto  a  kingly  cause 
To  hail  thee  King  of  Nations, 
Yet  know  thee — citizen 
And  president. 

And  thus  it  is 

We  give  thee  welcome. 

Written  at  the  time  of  President  McKinley's 
visit  to  Los  Angeles  and  the  Pacific  Coast  in 
May — 1901. 

JUNIPERO  SERRA 

Fair  the  breezes  fanned  Majorca 

On  a  day  in  early  spring 

And  through  the  streets  of  ancient  Petra 

Hurried  friends  to  tidings  bring. 

To  a  Spaniard  laboring  slowly, 

Waiting  for  the  sunset  gun, 

Came  these  eager  friends  and  lowly 

Bringing  tidings  of  a  son. 

Junipero  Serra — man  of  iron  in  days  of  olden! 
In    glittering   empyrean    should    thy   deeds    be 

sung — 

Hadst  'thou  lived  to  circumstance  more  beholden 
Time's  hand  would  hardly  turn  so  far  but  tongue 
Of  man  should  render  praise  to  thee, 
But  hearts  of  men  with  inspiration  swell 
At  thought  of  those  that,  reverent,  bowed  the 

knee 
To  work  of  thine,  done  all  so  well. 

78 


Where  daring  deeds  there  were  to  do 

And  paths  in  virgin  forests  'bout 

For  iron  men  like  you 

To  hew  and  straighten  out, 

Thou  earnest  and  oft  didst  dream 

That  God  and  empire  sent  thee  here, 

The  unfurled  flag  of  Spain  and  gleam 

Of  Christly  cross  the  souls  of  men  to  cheer. 

O  day  of  July  first 

In  year  long  gone! 
Thou  wert  of  Alta  California 

The  Natal  Day 
And  the  greatness 

That  thou  didst  usher  in 
Was  more,  and  closer 

To  the  stride  of  Fate 
Than  ever  day  before 

Didst  dawn  upon, 
In  the  annals  of 

That  County  fair 
To  which,  with  unknown  guidance, 

Thou  didst  yield 
The  twilight 

Of  thy  coming. 


THE  EIGHTH  WONDER 

Where  California's  mountains  rise 
With  snowy  peaks  to  summer  skies, 
Where  savage  tribes  in  early  day 
Gave  up  a  land  to  Christian  sway 
And  flag  of  Spain  on  bloody  sod 
Was  raised  aloft  in  name  of  God, 


79 


There  in  the  South  where  skillful  hand 
Hath  made  a  garden  of  the  land, 
Where  brain  and  brawn  and  buried  gold 
Have  brought  the  new  from  out  the  old, 
Where  far  away  o'er  mountains'  crest 
The  Star  of  Empire  seeks  the  West, 

There  chiseled  in  rude  canon  bed 
The  centuries  show  the  Arrow  Head. 
While  Pyramids  of  Egypt  stand 
And  men  can  trace  on  Eastern  sand 
The  Walls  of  Babylon — in  dreams 
Behold  her  Hanging  Gardens,  and  the  gleams 
Of  golden  light  that  nicker  rare 
From  Temple  of  Diana  fair, 
And  once  again  in  worship  stand 
By  Jovian  Statue  on  Olympian  strand- 
While  we  Colossus  view  at  Rhodes, 
And  Mausoleum  death  forbodes, 

E'en  yet  on  rugged  mountain  side 
The  Arrow  Head  doth  still  abide 
And  so  it  shall  while  Time  doth  run 
And  earth  doth  smile  at  shining  sun — 
To  tell  the  world  of  peoples,  dead, 
That  lived  and  loved  by  Arrow  Head. 


ON  RAYMOND  HILL 

Out  through  the  vista  of  the  hills 
He  gazes  and  listens  and  dreams. 
Birds  are  singing,  butterflies  winging, 
Life  his  pulses  thrills 
And  close  to  her  he's  clinging. 


80 


Distant  the  sound  of  a  bell, 
Distant  the  city's  strife. 
About  him  the  murmur  of  summer 
And  sweet  the  wildflowers'  smell 
And  quickened  the  throb  of  life. 

Barefooted,  a  boy  came  singing, 
Swinging  his  chubby  fists, 
Glad  and  joyous  came  singing 
But  with  him  sadness  was  bringing 
In  memory  of  bygone  trysts. 

O  the  love  of  a  blue-eyed  maiden! 
O  the  thought  of  other  years 
When  life  was  lived  in  Aidenn, 
Long  ago  with  the  love  of  a  maiden- 
O  cease  ye  blinding  tears ! 


A  DREAM  PROPHECY 

A  summer  sun  shone  on  an  orchard  fair, 
That  stretched  about  a  southern  home, 
A  California  home  of  dreams, 
And  one  sat  there  beneath  the  trees 
And  gazed  into  the  blue,  ethereal  dome 
Of  heaven  the  while  the  gleams 
From  glossy  leaves  and  hum  of  bees 
Enthralled,  for  peace  was  in  the  air. 

He  was  a  youth  with  bronzed  and  earnest  face 
Who  sat  beneath  those  cooling  bows 
And  glanced,  betimes,  upon  his  grandsire,  old, 
Whose  palsied  frame  at  Gettysburg  had  fought; 
But  now  he  listened  to  the  oft-told  vows 
Of  love,  a  girlish  voice  did  sweetly  mold 

Si 


To  purest  song,  with  passion  frought, 
And  give  to  earth  with  gentle  grace. 

Then  one  stood  forth,  all  bright  with  other  life, 
And  hum  of  bees  and  girlish  song  were  not 
And  he  that  saw  was  dead  to  earth,  mayhap, 
And  knew  but  her  whose  name  was  Peace. 
"Take,   take   the  gifts    the   gods  to   you   have 

brought" 

She  said.     "Enjoy,  for  time  will  come  when  lap 
Of  mine  shall  overflow  and  lease 
Of  love  shall  change  to  cruel  strife. 

"As  truck  thy  grandsire's  arm  in  battle's  shock, 
As  groaned  that  land  and  reddened  o'er  with 

blood, 

As  died  her  sons  and  wailed  her  widows  then, 
As  cringed  her  Freedom  in  the  gates  of  Fear, 
So  this  land  shall  groan  beneath  the  flood 
That  whelms  her  children,  till  that  hour  when 
They  shall  rise  and  rescue  Freedom,  near 
Run  to  earth,  while  rich  men  mock." 


CATALINA 

Catalina,  Siren  maiden! 

Lying  clothed  in  satin  blue, 

In  waters  warm  as  those  of  Aidenn- 

The  summer  skies  bend  over  you. 

Lap  the  waves  against  thee  ever, 
Kiss  the  winds  thy  naked  limbs, 
Tires  Nesaee  never,  never — 
White  her  foam  the  sea  beach  dims. 


Catalina,  eastward  glancing 

At  thy  lover's  lofty  head, 

With  the  moonlight  on  thee  dancing, 

Far  Sierra  sees  thy  bed. 

Sly  Aeolus  hovers  over 
Pressing  kisses  on  thy  mouth, 
Fair  to  him — the  fickle  rover — 
Are  thine  odors  from  the  south. 

Mystic  Isle,  in  bed  of  ocean, 
Thou  hast  bared  thyself  to  love, 
Warmed  art  thou  with  Amor's  potion 
And  thine  arms  are  stretched  above. 

Hearts  for  thy  embrace  are  beating, 
Never  Lesbos  better  knew 
That  the  Muses'  favor,  fleeting, 
Is  for  those  that  sail  to  you. 


THE  BANYAN  TREE  ATAVALON,  CATA 
LINA  ISLAND 

Came  you  there  by  bird  or  billow, 
Washed  by  wave  or  carried  far 

With  some  flight  of  sea  birds,  winging 
Underneath  the  tropic  star, 

There  to  grow  with  gum  and  willow? 

Banyan  tree,  we  bless  thy  waking 

On  the  isle  where  Avalon 
Nestles  in  the  sea-girt  canyon, 

Dreaming  of  the  days  long  gone, 
Listening  to  the  billows  breaking. 


Came  you  from  the  Eastern  Indies? 

Of  thy  coming  we  will  boast! 
Came  you  from  the  fair  Hawaii 

Or  from  Persia's  balmy  coast, 
Sacred  fig  tree  o'er  the  seas? 

Whence  or  whither  was  thy  coming 
Matters  not,  O  Banyan  tree, 

Thou  art  sign  of  tropic  gloaming, 
Thou  art  rife  of  things  to  be 

In  this  land,  the  end  of  roaming, 
Where  thou  earnest,  o'er  the  sea, 

Lone  and  lonely  Banyan  tree. 

A  HISTORY  OF  ARIZONA 

Brown  and  bare  the  desert, 
Under  a  sun-cursed  sky — 
Far  the  stretch  of  the  sand  hills, 
To  the  mountains,  looming  high — 
Drear  and  dun  the  village, 
Where  somebody  came  to  die. 

Over  the  waste  of  the  desert, 

Gleamed  the  steely  track, 

Over  the  heart  of  somebody 

The  longing  to  go  back — 

O,h,  that  the  light  for  somebody 

Could  shine  through  the  coming  black ! 

Gay  and  bright  the  laughter, 
Under  the  ball-room  light — 
Low  and  sweet  the  music 
Far  into  fleeting  night — 
Fair  and  queenly  a  woman, 
Wielding  her  royal  might. 

84 


She  was  the  thought  of  somebody, 
Coughing  his  life  away, 
Silently,  hopelessly  loving, 
Loving  and  blessing  always — 
Constant  the  thought  of  somebody, 
Loving,  night  and  day. 

Grim  at  the  stake  the  martyrs 
Lifted  their  eyes  and  prayed! 
First  in  the  fray  the  soldier, 
Firm  and  unafraid! 
But  out  on  the  dreary  desert 
Somebody's  grave  was  made! 

THE  SONG  OF  THE  SIREN  OF  RIO  COL 
ORADO 

Love  to  your  death  ye  dark  skinned  race, 

The  foe  of  the  North,  the  Pale  Face! 
Sigh  to  the  hills,  burnt  and  old — 

He  cometh,  he  loveth  the  yellow  gold. 
I  lie  in  the  bend  of  the  dark  brown  stream — 

With  the  mountains  of  eld  I  watch  and  dream 
And  yon  where  trees  the  gorges  span 

Winds  oft  the  White  Man's  caravan. 
Far  in  the  East  the  Red  Man  died — 

There,  soundeth  now  the  conqueror's  stride 
And  the  Indian's  fate  with  change  is  frought 

For  bold  and  brave  is  the  argonaut. 
I  dream  at  night  in  the   full  moon's  gleam 

As,  silent,  I  swim  the  sullen  stream : 
Since  the  birth  of  the  hills  I've  held  my  sway — 

Peoples  have  lived  and  passed  away! 
What  to  me  is  the  Indian's  death? 

Tis  the  waning  stir  of  a  desert  breath, 
But  fairer  than  all  the  gold  in  the  West 

8s 


Is  my  mystic  spell  in  a  maiden's  breast; 
Yet  the  passing  Red  Man's  hand  will  kill 

On  the  barren  plain  and  rugged  hill. 
And  I  must  save  out  of  blood  and  fire 

A  fair  faced  boy  from  savage  ire — 
I'll  wrap  him  now  with  power  about 

While  his  friends  go  down  in  treacherous  rout. 
Fierce  and  wild  are  those  fiends  of  hell — 

Know  the  seekers  of  gold  the  story  well ! 

On  desert  plains  where  the  hot  sun  pours 

And  the  River  flows  to>  ocean  shores — 
Melted  snows  from  mountain  rills 

Thick  with  red  of  basalt  hills- 
Here  in  the  South — the  Indian's  land — 

Shall  Fate  make  strong  the  White  Man's  hand. 
The  Siren  knows  the  sullen  way 

Of  the  sinuous  stream  by  night  and  day — 
She  laughs  at  the  future  and  mocks  the  past 

For  naught  is  changeless — naught  shall  last, 
But  the  wakening  dream  and  mystic  spell 

In  a  maiden's  breast  are  hidden  well  — 
She  will  hold  him  close  with  her  warm,  dark 
arms 

And  he  shall  love  her  savage  charms. 
Yet  Juta's  song  will  grow  faint  and  still 

For  The  God  Of  The  Air  hath  power  to  kill 
And  Basla's  cry  shall  tell  the  grief 

Of  a  broken  tribe  and  a  powerless  chief. 

In  the  yellow  swirl  of  the  yellow  stream 
I  swim  with  the  flood  in  a  half  day  dream — 

I  pick  the  gold  from  my  thick,  damp  hair 
And  the  mountain  spirits  calls  me  fair 

And  ever  when  the  bank  doth  fall 


86 


A  rapturous  lover  hears  my  call, 
While  every  stark  and  stranded  tree 

Holds  drowning  fauns  who  cry  to  me ; 
But  I  laugh  aloud  and  shake  my  hair — 

For  a  siren's  love  the  brave  shall  dare! 
Oh,  strange  the  things  my  spell  will  do 

And  the  work  of  my  hands  is  never  through — 
See  yonder  camp  of  Pale  Face  braves! 

They  too  are  Moera's  willing  slaves 
And  the  youth  with  the  babe  of  straight,  dark- 
hair 

Is  the  maiden's  love — The  God  Of  The  Air. 
And  now  they  go  with  pick  and  pan 

To  the  Western  shore  with  the  caravan 
And  the  gold  they  find  with  shining  face 

Shall  change  the  hue  of  the  dark  skinned  race, 
For  war  and  love  and  glistening  gold 

Are  siren's  tools  since  davs  of  old. 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 


AN  INITIAL  FINE  OF  25  CENTS 

WILL  BE  ASSESSED  FOR  FAILURE  TO  RETURN 
THIS  BOOK  ON  THE  DATE  DUE.  THE  PENALTY 
WILL  INCREASE  TO  SO  CENTS  ON  THE  FOURTH 
DAY  AND  TO  $f.OO  ON  THE  SEVENTH  DAY 
OVERDUE. 


JUL   23  1936 


LD  2i-100m-7,'33 


YB   12204 


